


One Hell of a Valentine's Day

by Winnywriter



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Coming Out, M/M, Mary is awesome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-14
Updated: 2014-02-14
Packaged: 2018-01-12 09:31:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,929
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1184636
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Winnywriter/pseuds/Winnywriter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean and Cas have kept their relationship a secret...until today, anyway.</p>
            </blockquote>





	One Hell of a Valentine's Day

**Author's Note:**

> Just a little Valentine's Day something...because I need more of Mary being alive long enough to be an awesome mom dammit.

Dean couldn't stand Valentine's Day. It was pink and lacy and overly sweet, full of cheesy Hallmark commercials and overly priced chocolate: a commercialized nightmare. Not to mention all the PDA he had to put up with at school. He couldn't count the number of people he'd had to see making out and holding hands, whispering sweet nothings to each other between classes. It made him want to puke. All in all, the only upside was the candy sales that would inevitably follow the day after.

 

And Cas. Cas was a plus too.

 

Cas wasn't big on the whole V-day thing either, so it was just another Friday for them. They'd stopped by the drugstore on the way home from school and bought a few bags of Hershey's kisses, then headed straight to Dean's house. With his parents at work and Sam at basketball practice, it gave them just the opportunity they needed to have a little alone time.

 

It was all Dean wanted out of Valentine's Day anyway.

 

They hadn't exactly planned anything. They never did, really. If they were alone on a bed for long enough, one thing just inevitably led to another eventually. It started with kisses, and teasing touches, Dean's hand running up Cas' thigh and the other pressing him down onto the sheets. Before long they were tangled up in a good old-fashioned makeout session, and neither one of them complained that their chocolate had been forgotten on Dean's desk.

 

Cas would never admit it, but he really was a horndog at heart. Dean adored it.

 

Somewhere along the line, Cas' zipper had come undone, and Dean's fingers had easily found their way inside. And now Cas was flushed and breathless, gripping at his shoulders, moaning his name and rocking his hips against Dean's palm as Dean nipped at his neck and jerked him off.

 

He grinned against Cas' jaw. It was one of his favorite things in the world, getting his normally stoic, reserved, eloquent Castiel all worked up and desperate like this. Better than pie, he'd even dare to say. All it took was a few flicks of his wrist and a good squeeze here and there and Cas was a moaning, babbling mess under him.

 

And Cas was a handsy bastard too. He ran his palms up Dean's back, trailing them up under his shirt until it bunched up at his armpits. Dean rolled his eyes, stopping for just a second to tug it off and throw it aside before kneeling between Cas' legs again. Cas mewled his approval and let his hands settle just above Dean's hips, holding him loosely and panting encouragement and praise as his thumbs stroked up and down across his skin.

 

Dean could tell when Cas was getting close when his words started to dissolve into broken little syllables and finally just breathless grunts and moans. He grinned, moving his hand even faster, watching Cas writhe and arch up off the bed, his hands everywhere, like he was trying to find something to hold onto but just couldn't make up his mind what it should be. His face was flushed red, a mask of ecstasy, jaw slack, eyes squeezed shut.

 

“Gonna come for me, baby...” Dean crooned, and it was all Cas could do to nod.

 

“Dean... _Dean_ , I'm-”

 

“Dean,” another voice chimed, and he just barely had the time to feel horror settle ice-cold in the pit of his stomach before his door – god, had he really neglected to close it all the way? – creaked open. “Don't forget you need to pick your brother up from- Oh!”

 

Dean's hand froze, and a second after, the rest of his body followed suit. All he could do was sit there, shirtless and flushed with a hard-on poking at the zipper of his jeans and his boyfriend's dick in his hand, staring at his mother.

 

“Um,” he said.

 

She said something – it might have been an apology for not knocking, but he couldn't be sure – and she was gone just as quickly as she'd come in, the door closing behind her. Cas was still panting and red in the face, but his expression had changed. He looked from the door to Dean, looking dazed and a little uncomfortable.

 

“Dean?” he asked.

 

All of it happened in the span of a second or two, and that was all it took for his mind to start processing again. When it did, he felt like the world was breaking in two underneath him, and he shook as he sat back on his haunches, running his hands through his hair.

 

“Shit...” he muttered. “Shit...shit...fuck...god, _shit._ ” He hauled himself up, pacing back and forth. His mom... _his mom_ had seen him with Cas. Not just kissing or snuggling either, but full-on heavy petting. It was bad enough that his mom had walked in on him having sex, but she'd walked in on him having sex _with Cas._ He hadn't even had the chance to bring up the whole boyfriend thing to her yet.

 

“Dean,” Cas said again, concern edging its way into his voice as he sat up on the edge of the bed and tucked himself unceremoniously back into his boxers. “Are you okay?”

 

“No, I'm not fucking okay!” Dean snapped. He felt like he could barely breath. The air was too heavy and warm. “She...god, Cas, my _mom..._ she fucking...oh god...shit, I think I'm gonna be sick...” He stumbled over to his trashcan, falling to his knees with a loud thump and leaning over it, but nothing came up.

 

He could hear Cas padding over to him, socks barely making a sound on the carpeted floor. He knelt next to him, putting a hand between his shoulder blades and rubbing in soothing circles. “Dean...just take a breath...”

 

“I can't...” Dean croaked. His voice sounded pathetic, shaky and rough, nothing like his own. “Cas, she...she didn't know...I never told her...”

 

“You need to talk to her.” Dean still had no idea how Cas did that. How could a guy sound so damn calm and smart when he'd been on the verge of an orgasm less than two minutes ago? Not to mention the fact that poor Cas' balls were probably fifteen different shades of blue right about now. “Dean...do you really think your mother of all people is going to get angry about this? What's the worst thing that could happen?”

 

Dean whimpered – honest-to-god _whimpered_ – and rested his forehead on the edge of the trashcan. Maybe if he kept his eyes closed, he'd wake up in his bed and realize this was all a dream. “I don't know...” he managed to get out.

 

He knew Cas was right. Somewhere deep inside his skull, some rational part of his mind was chirping that the longer he waited, the worse it would be. His mom wasn't the type to kick him out over something like this. He knew that, and yet he just couldn't make himself believe it. He drew a shaky, ragged breath and felt tears gathering in the corners of his eyes. God, he didn't want to _cry_ over this on top of everything else.

 

He felt Cas' hand slip over his own wrist, gently tugging it away from the edge of the trashcan and lacing their fingers together. “I'll go down with you, if you want,” he said.

 

Numbly, Dean nodded.

 

Every step felt like it would be the one that would make his legs give out under him as he made his way down the stairs. They held firm, somehow, with Cas a constant warm presence by his side the whole time. He could hear water running in the kitchen when he got to the landing, and he gave Cas' hand a sqeeze. “Just wait here, okay?” he heard himself say. “Just for a second...”

 

Letting go of Cas' hand and stepping forward around the corner into the kitchen felt like it took every ounce of willpower he had. A big, stubborn part of his brain was screaming for him to run, to turn around and high-tail it back upstairs and hide under the bed until his mom forgot about this. But his legs were running on autopilot, it seemed, and suddenly he was standing in the middle of the kitchen, staring at his mom's back as she chopped peppers on the cutting board.

 

A word was forcing its way up his throat, and he spoke: “Mom?”

 

She paused. Dean wished for an invisibility cloak.

 

The wait for her to say something seemed to drag on forever, and he had to force himself to remember to keep breathing as he waited. Finally, she said, “Guess I should have knocked, huh?”

 

She was still facing the sink, but he could hear a ghost of a smile in her voice. He crossed his arm over his chest, fingers digging into his opposite sleeve. He tried to speak, but no words came this time. Instead, his mom turned around, leaning back against the edge of the counter. “I didn't think I'd be interrupting...well, I guess I shouldn't assume, should I?”

 

Her tone was soft, and he could see now that she really was smiling, if just a bit. His mouth felt dry, and he swallowed past a nervous lump in his throat before forcing out, “I was going to tell you-”

 

She held up a hand to stop him. “Dean...” she said, and she sighed. “You would have told me when you were ready. And I'll bet this wasn't how you wanted me to find out...Nobody wants their mom to walk in on them like that.” She let out the tiniest laugh, and Dean felt himself doing the same, even if it was a weak, slightly hysterical-sounding thing.

 

She stepped forward, and suddenly her hands were on his shoulders and she was holding his gaze. “It's okay, Dean. Who you spend your time with...that's your business. You're my son. You always have been, and you always will be. No exceptions.”

 

And then she was hugging him, and the relief was so immense that Dean almost lost his footing right there in the kitchen. His arms still felt numb, but he wrapped them around her and held on with everything he had.

 

When she pulled away, she wiped away a tear from his cheek with the pad of her thumb. Had he really been crying? God, today was a roller coaster and he was ready to get off of it. “You're happy with him, right?” she asked. He was vaguely aware that he was nodding. “Good. Then be happy with him. That's all I want.”

 

He felt like a little kid again, wanting nothing more than to just let his mom hold him like this forever. He managed a smile, and a shaky little “Thanks, mom...”, and she cupped his jaw in her calloused palm, giving him a reassuring smile that only a mother could manage.

 

She looked up toward the door and called Cas' name, and Dean looked back just as Cas sheepishly peaked around the corner. There was no way she could have seen him hanging back by the stairs. What was it about moms that let them _just know_ things like that? It was creepy.

 

Cas was red in the face, but true to form, he held her gaze as he came in. “Now...” she said. “Cas.”

 

“Yes, Mrs. Winchester?” Cas said, straightening up. Always so polite.

 

She smiled at him. “Would you like to stay for dinner?”


End file.
